


For Remembrance

by dustandroses



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Backstory: Spike, Backstory: Tara, Character Study, Community: tamingthemuse, Ficlet, Gen, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“…with immediacy and intensity, smell activates the memory, allowing our minds to travel freely in time." </i>   </p><p> <br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	For Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Notes:** Inspiration for this story taken from the Live Journal community Tamingthemuse prompt #335: Perfume  
>  **Notes:** If you need any information on sachets, you can find it [here](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sachet_%28scented_bag%29).  
>  The quote used in the summary is from Tom Robbins' novel [Jitterbug Perfume](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jitterbug_Perfume). I haven't read it, but since a good deal of the novel is about the sense of smell and perfumes, it seemed fitting.

“Lavender.”

Tara looked up in surprise. She hadn’t realized Spike was there until he spoke. She’d been wrapped up in her book, looking for the demon that had attacked Buffy the night before. The others had all gone off in different directions: Giles was making tea, Willow was talking to Buffy over by the stairs, and Xander had gone out to eat with Anya. 

Spike stood right there by the couch, staring down at her, his face unreadable. Tara swallowed, uncomfortable with his proximity. She knew he couldn’t hurt her, and she doubted that he had any interest in trying; not with the Slayer in the same room, at least. Still, she felt the thrill of nerves in her belly that reminded her that he was a deadly predator, and she was his natural prey. She cleared her throat.

“Whu-whu-what?” She cringed internally. Her stutter was always worse when she was nervous.

Spike sat down at the end of the couch, turned sideways so he could see her more clearly. That certainly didn’t help to put her at ease. 

“Lavender. I can smell it on you. But it doesn’t smell like perfume.”

“Oh!” Her mother’s image rose in her mind, and she smiled fondly at the memory. “I use sachets in the duh-drawers of my dresser. Muh-my mother gave me the recipe, and it relies heavily on lavender.” 

“Ah.” Spike nodded, as if that explained everything. 

“Lavender, for luck,” she quoted, hearing her mother’s voice in her mind. 

“My mother used lavender in her sachets as well.”

Spike’s eyes were soft as he spoke, his face transformed by the memory. Tara could practically feel the love he’d felt for his mother. 

“It was her favorite flower,” he said almost wistfully.

“Muh-my m-mother’s, too!” Tara relaxed, more at ease now that they had something in common. She wondered if he’d ever spoken to any of the others about his family. She didn’t think so. She was surprised and honored that he’d revealed himself to her that way. 

“Her recipe was a closely guarded secret,” Tara told him. “She didn’t share it with me until I was fuh-fourteen, when she f-first let me help her make the sachets.”

“A secret, eh?” Spike’s eyes lit up, and his lips pursed, accenting his sharp cheekbones. 

His mischievous grin was contagious; Tara couldn’t help but smile back. She could imagine how easy it would be for Spike to seduce a woman. She found him appealing, and she wasn’t even attracted to men. 

Spike slipped closer to her, leaning in and inhaling deeply. Tara gasped, and almost pulled away before she realized what he was doing. His closeness made her anxious, but she stayed still and let him take in her scent. She was very self-conscious, though; humans were probably pretty stinky to creatures with such acute senses of smell, and she hadn’t showered since early that morning.

“Mmm…lovely.” He opened eyes she hadn’t realized he’d closed, his blue eyes staring deeply into her own. 

She shook her head at his audacity. “You need to behave.” 

He looked at her innocently. "Who me?" Tara wasn’t fooled. She elbowed him in the ribs, shocked at her own boldness, but he was playing with her, and she felt the need to show him she was aware of his games. 

He pulled back, a totally non-repentant smirk on his face. He took another sniff, this one less provocative and flirty. “Right then. Let’s see… vanilla, roses, allspice, sandalwood, cloves…”

Tara was amazed that he knew all those scents well enough to identify them. He hadn’t named them all, of course, but he’d gotten closer than many who’d tried.

He tilted his head, biting his lip. “…and is that rosemary?” he asked.

She gasped in shock. No one had ever figured out her mother’s secret ingredient before. “Rosemary, for remembrance,” she murmured.

He smiled at her, smugly. “How was that?”

“I’m impressed,” she admitted. “You got closer than anyone who’s ever tried before.”

He preened under her admiration. “Of course I did.” 

Tara rolled her eyes. He was far too full of himself. But then, he had reason to be, from what she’d seen. She’d have to watch him closely in the future. There was a great deal more to him than he usually allowed them to see. 

Spike frowned suddenly, pushing himself back against the end of the couch, leaving plenty of room between them.

“What are you up to, Spike?” Buffy walked up to the couch and stood over him, hands on her hips. “Do I have to make a new rule about not annoying the humans?”

“Oi! We were having a civilized conversation,” Spike protested. “Don’t go getting your knickers in a twist.”

That was a disturbing image. Tara got the idea it was a saying he used regularly, but obviously Buffy hadn’t heard it either.

“What did you say?”

Giles arrived just then, setting a tea tray down in the middle of the coffee table. “Don’t worry, Buffy, I was watching them closely. He did nothing worse than flirt with Tara, and she put him in his place rather efficiently, I thought.”

He smiled at Tara approvingly. She blushed. She never knew what to do when someone praised her. “Th-thank you, Mr. Giles.”

Buffy plopped herself down between Tara and Spike on the couch. Spike gave her a nasty look and got up to fix himself a cup of tea. Tara was surprised. She supposed she thought of him as more of a beer or hard liquor drinker, but then, he was British, wasn’t he? Spike settled down in the chair opposite Giles and took a deep sniff of the steam rising up out of the cup before he nodded approvingly, and took his first sip.

Willow showed up then, and as usual, took all of Tara’s attention. Willow was something special, and it still amazed Tara that Willow thought _she_ was special, too. They fell back into the regular rhythms of an evening at Giles’ after that. She’d almost forgotten about their conversation when she glanced up and caught Spike watching her. He winked at her before he turned back to his tea. 

She blushed, again. That Spike was a rascal. She’d keep a close eye on him; there was no telling what he’d do. But she was up to the challenge. If he wasn’t careful, he’d find out the hard way that she could be a rascal too.


End file.
